Lime Robes
by whitetiger91
Summary: His body is useless, but his mind isn't. When something as simple as knowing a colour could prove he was still aware, Frank will do anything to remember it.


**_This story was written for The Houses Competition, Year 5, Round Three. _**

**_House/team: Gryffindor_**

**_Class subject: Defence Against the Dark Arts_**

**_Story category: Drabble_**

**_Prompt: 4. [Colour] Lime_**

**_Word count: 996 words (Google docs)_**

**_Beta: Verity Grahams, White Eyebrow, secretfanficlover_**

**_Extra: This could be considered AU; it's my headcanon that Frank was conscious, just trapped in his body. It's set a few months from his hospital admittance, hence why Alice isn't mentioned. This is written with as much respect intended to anyone who may have had a similar experience._**

* * *

**Lime Robes**

_**Frank never thought a simple thing like lime would be the key to his happiness, but here he was, relying on the yellow-green colour to prove he was more than a broken body in a hospital bed. **_

"Good… that is black…" Healer Armstrong furrowed his bushy grey eyebrows and scribbled a note on his clipboard.

It was hard not to roll his eyes, but the blond knew it was important to play along. Every day, the Healer would ask him to point to a different object around the room; Frank was determined to prove he could remember what they were.

"Something harder perhaps… do you remember what forest green is?"

Frank glanced around the room. There wasn't much colour amid the stark white walls, but he soon spotted a vase of peonies.

Now it was time for the hard part. Screwing up his eyes, he concentrated with all his might on his hand. It felt like fire was burning through his veins, but he was able to make a finger point to the flowers' stems.

Healer Armstrong narrowed his eyes. "Something lime?"

Frank pointed to the Healer's lime-green uniform.

"Right..." He didn't like the way the man peered into his eyes and sighed.

The Healer gave no indication if he'd passed as he walked away, leaving him to stare at the white walls, waiting for the next time he'd have a chance to prove his mind was still intact.

* * *

_The peas are lime-green, the peas are lime-green…_

As Healer Strout shoved a spoonful of mashed peas into his mouth, Frank concentrated on their colour, determined not to forget it.

"Oopsie-daisy, just some dribble, Frankie," the brunette cooed, wiping his chin.

He tried to push her away, but his arms were tired from the exercise he'd done that week. The Healers had made him draw a few pictures, not to entertain him—how could someone whose brain was fried be bored?—but to see if his muscles could be salvaged.

"Oh! It seems like someone has a visitor…" she sang.

Frank's eyes lit up as he spotted his mother. "_Mmm—ah—mmm…_" he tried saying, but as usual, the words wouldn't come out correctly.

"What's he trying to say?" she asked Healer Strout, then turned back to him. "Frank, are you trying to say 'Mum?'"

"He mightn't recognise you; it's still early days…"

"It's been months!"

His mother stared into his eyes. Her own brown eyes were watery, but Frank was sure she knew he was inside.

At the sound of her raised voice, Healer Armstrong strutted over.

His mother pounced on him. "Well? Is he getting better?"

The man sighed. "Mrs Longbottom, I assure you we're trying. I've been running tests—basic things, like shape, colour, animal recognition, etcetera—to give us more of an indication. However, apart from the small physical improvements, cognitively, it seems he's simply repeating what I do. It's natural given his situation."

Fire consumed Frank again, but this time it wasn't from pain. 'I'm aware of my surroundings!_'_

"Shhh, what's he trying to say?" his mother asked.

Of course, the only noise he could make in his defence were a few incoherent gurgles. "_In Nerere!_"

"It's likely just involuntary movement, nothing of consequence," Healer Armstrong said. "Let's review some things in my office."

Frank tried to catch his mother's attention, but she was pushed towards the ward's exit.

Healer Strout moved in front of him instead, waving a spoonful of the lime-green peas. "Open wide…"

* * *

Frank knew he'd finally prove he was still conscious.

"Alright, how about colouring this part?" Healer Armstrong said, miming colouring in.

He obeyed, finishing his drawing. It was his best picture yet; although his aching muscles had made his crayon strokes messy, he'd managed to work up enough energy to draw his mother. If that didn't prove he knew who he was, nothing would.

"Very good."

Frank relaxed. Soon, the sound of heels tapping on the linoleum floor echoed through the room.

"Mrs Longbottom, I'm glad you could make it."

"Of course I came," his mother snapped, but her eyes softened as she peered down at him. "Hello, my boy. Is this your drawing? It's lovely."

Healer Armstrong cleared his throat. "We've used it as a tool to measure his progress. However, I believe it indicates what we've feared all along."

Frank's heart skipped a beat; he'd said he was doing well.

"Meaning?" his mother asked.

"Meaning, these are nothing more than scribbles. There may be some conscious thought inside, but at best, your son probably has the mind of a three-year-old. I'm sorry."

"But, he was a top Auror…"

Tears trickled down his mother's cheeks as she peered back into his eyes. He stared back at her, begging her to see him, to know he was there. He tried to hold his painting up to prove he remembered her, but she didn't look down.

"I see…" she said, turning away.

"We should discuss what happens next."

Frank's heart was now racing. Despite the pain shooting through him, he tried waving around his picture. When it still didn't catch their attention, he tried another tactic.

"_Llllnnnnn! Lnnnnn!_" he said, using all his strength to grab the Healer's lime-green robes.

"Now, now, that's enough," Healer Armstrong said, prying his hands off.

Frank looked at his mother, trying to grab the robes again. 'They're lime! I do remember! LIME! LIME!_'_

She turned away, however, pressing a handkerchief to her eyes.

"_LNNNNN! LNNNNN!_"

"Healer Strout, would you mind settling him?" he said, steering his mother away.

Frank struggled as the Healer restrained his arms, desperate to let his mother know that he understood everything. He continued thrashing about as much as his body would allow him until he could no longer hear her sobs above his own, strangled cries.

_**It didn't matter if he knew that lime was yellower than forest green, brighter than emerald green, or the very colour of the robes the Healers wore. It still didn't prove that he was there.**_


End file.
